


This is Crazy

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, I'ma write Poots as being from Southie until Ngozi tells me otherwise, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Eric Bittle, Oblivious Jack, POV Outsider, Unrequited Crush, everyone is oblivious in this fic, oblivious poots, you just watch me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9476549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: Andrew knows, okay? He's in the NHL now, he has to be even more careful than he was in the juniors. That's why he hasn't let his stray attraction to fellow rookie Jack Zimmermann progress any further than just that - a little stray attraction. But when he meets Jack's friend from college, Bitty, he manages to go from zero to full-blown crush in just a few minutes. Is there any way he could have a chance with the guy?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [garden of succulents (staranise)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staranise/gifts).



> I have been in a writing drought since I posted [Jack Zimmermann is a Masochistic Fuckwit](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8910685), mostly because I've been using all my fandom time helping to organize [Fandom Trumps Hate](http://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/). Thankfully, that is finally starting to slow down a little, and this was just the little thing to throw together over the past two days to get my brain back into writing mode. Now maybe I can tackle my auction fics!
> 
> Very much inspired by [this Tumblr post](https://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com/post/156427951729/legojacques-airplanesandcookies), although it doesn't really use any of those specific scenes, so I'm gifting it to des-zimbits.
> 
> Title from Call Me Maybe.

Before the game, Jack hadn't been able to shut up about his old team coming to watch. Andrew didn't even think he realized he was doing it—it just seemed like every little thing all day reminded him of some story from his college days, some anecdote about one of the guys who just happened to be coming that evening. It was kind of cute.

 _Jack_ was kind of cute —more than kind of, but Andrew had learned his lesson a long time ago. He thought he might eventually be able to date the right guy discreetly, secretly, while in the NHL, but teammates were 100% off-limits. Even if there were any chance of Jack swinging his way (statistically? not likely), what a mess it would be. And if Jack _didn't_ swing his way, even the slightest hint that Andrew was attracted to him was likely to get him decked—or worse, traded.

Yeah, yeah, the Falconers talked a big game about inclusivity and diversity. But Andrew had been around hockey players since he was a kid, and he knew the score. He got a nice shiner when he was thirteen from looking a little too long in the locker room—he hadn't even been _looking_ , he'd just spaced out with his eyes in the wrong direction—and he didn't need a repeat with a full-grown man who probably made twice the rookie salary he did. Or more.

So when Andrew met Jack Zimmermann, he noted that the man was just as hot as the photos he'd seen, and that his ass was just as well-formed as legend would have it, and then moved the fuck on. It wasn't hard; Jack didn't socialize with the team much, and on the ice he had the naturally commanding presence of someone who has spent most of his hockey career as a captain. Not someone Andrew had the slightest urge to flirt with.

This adorable Jack who couldn't shut up about his friends? If Andrew were around _that_ Jack more often, he might have been tempted.

When he wandered out of the locker room after the game, Andrew was unsurprised to see Jack surrounded by guys (and one girl) who were clearly his college buddies. He was just pulling himself out of a headlock by one guy who had a good three inches on him, only to be tackled from behind by another guy with a mustache. Andrew wasn't sure he'd ever seen Jack look genuinely _happy_ before, but he wasn't too surprised to see it now. Jack accepted a sloppy kiss on the cheek from mustache guy, then noticed Andrew and waved him over.

As Andrew made his way down the hallway, mustache guy moved aside to reveal a short blonde man, hanging back a bit from the group, looking pleased and affectionate but not participating in the roughhousing. This guy had big brown eyes and a sharp jawline. The Zimmermann jersey he was wearing hid his body, but Andrew could imagine that it was pretty nice if he was on Jack's old team. As the guy turned so Andrew could see him in profile, he saw that the jersey was pushed up a little in the back to reveal a small but well-defined ass.

Andrew grit his teeth but kept a friendly smile on his face. They may not be _his_ teammates, but they were hockey players, and he didn't need to be caught staring at one of their asses.

"Guys," Jack said as he approached, "this is the other rookie this year, I was telling you about him, Poo—"

" _Andrew_ ," Andrew cut in. He thought he would probably melt into the floor if the cute blonde guy called him Poots. Speaking of, that's who he had just _happened_ to ensure he wound up standing closest to, and so naturally that's who he stuck his hand out to first.

Thank God, Jack got the message and clapped him on the shoulder. "Andrew, yeah."

The short blonde guy shook his hand. "Bitty. I suppose Jack told y'all he was gonna have a cheering section tonight?"

Dear God in heaven above, he had a _southern accent_. Andrew was such a sucker for any accent classier than his own South Boston embarrassment.

"Oh yeah, wouldn't shut up about it," Andrew replied, smiling in what he hoped was a friendly and not goofy way and remembering not to shake Bitty's hand for too long. "You'd think he likes you guys or somethin'."

Andrew shook hands with the rest of Jack's friends, trying to pay enough attention to remember names and laugh at the right places, but a bit of his consciousness stayed locked onto Bitty.

And he noticed two things.

First, he had a definite feeling that Bitty was gay. Something about the way he held himself, the way he talked (even taking into account the accent)—it all pinged that part of Andrew's brain in a way no other hockey player ever had. And if he was gay, he didn't seem to be hiding it. Here Bitty was, surrounded by hockey players twice his size, and he didn't seem at all inclined put on some kind of extra-masculine facade the way Andrew sometimes felt the need to.

Now, Jack had definitely been talking about Bitty, and Andrew had gotten the idea they were pretty much best friends. If Jack could be best friends with this guy, maybe… maybe someday he'd be someone Andrew could trust with his secret. Someday.

Although, the way Jack had talked about Bitty before made the second thing Andrew noticed even more confusing: there was some kind of weird tension between him and Jack. Even though Bitty was there to see Jack, and all their other friends couldn't seem to keep their hands or eyes off him, Bitty stayed politely and carefully one step away from the kerfuffle. Andrew didn't see him touch Jack once. In fact, he and Jack barely spoke, and maybe he was crazy but Andrew thought they were even avoiding looking at each other.

Maybe they'd had a fight of some kind before the game? Andrew didn't know, but he definitely hoped that whatever it was wouldn't keep Bitty from coming to more of Jack's games.

He managed to talk to Bitty a couple more times before the group started making noise about heading back to Samwell. Andrew learned that Bitty was a left wing, and had spent a lot of time playing on Jack's line the past two years. He was originally from Georgia (Andrew couldn't _not_ ask where that accent was from—that wasn't a weird question to ask, was it?), and was a figure skater before he played hockey.

Andrew managed to hold himself back from asking for the guy's number, but he definitely hoped he'd come to another game soon.

—

It was barely a month before Andrew got his wish.

This time, Bitty was the only one of Jack's friends who came down, which definitely put a mark in the "best friends with Jack" column.

He was disappointed to not see Bitty when he left the locker room that time, only to run into he and Jack heading to Jack's car in the team parking.

"Hey. Bitty, right?" As if he could forget. "Jack driving ya back up to Samwell?"

"Oh! Uh." Bitty blinked down at the duffle over his shoulder, which Andrew hadn't even noticed. For some reason, Bitty looked at the bag like it slightly confused him, but his face cleared quickly. "No, um. My cousin goes to Brown, I was gonna stay at Jack's tonight and then spend the rest of the weekend with her."

"Oh, yeah? Nice! They got a nice campus there."

Bitty's lips twitched at the obvious "theah", and Andrew tried not to wince at how awful his own accent sounded.

"Sounds like you're a local boy, huh?"

Andrew's brows came together. He didn't really think Providence had its own accent, but he was sure if it did, it didn't sound like you were from Southie.

"Nah, I'm from Boston. My folks just about disowned me when they found out I'd have to play against the home team."

Bitty's head tilted back as he laughed. Andrew glanced over at Jack, who was rolling his eyes but had a fond smile on his face. Whatever weird tension had been between the two the last time Bitty had visited was gone. He was also not watching Andrew, so Andrew took the opportunity to appreciate the sight of Bitty laughing.

"Oh my goodness! New Englanders, I swear!" Bitty reached out and touched Andrew's arm, and Andrew reminded himself that this guy was almost definitely _not_ flirting with him. "Trust me, honey, if you're from Boston, that's local enough. Where I come from, you have to travel a lot farther'n fifty miles to not be considered a local."

Andrew could have chirped him back, something about finally living in civilization, but he was too eager to stay in Bitty's good graces to insult his home. And too curious about him to pass up a rare opportunity to find out more.

"So whatcha doing all the way up at Samwell, Georgia? Don't you get homesick?"

Bitty chewed his lip and glanced at Jack, but his eyes skittered away again almost immediately. "Georgia'll always be my home, but I just don't think it's somewhere I was meant to spend my whole life, y'know? And Samwell is a lot more… _accepting of differences_ than my hometown ever was." He said the last part with a bit of an eyeroll, but broke into a grin when Jack  bumped him with his shoulder.

"Yeah," was all Andrew could think of to say. "Yeah, I get that."

Andrew may have taken a look at Samwell's web page after Jack's friends' last visit, and he may have noticed the "one in four, maybe more" reputation that the school seemed so proud of.

The near-confirmation of Bitty's sexuality was about all he could handle for the night, so he took a step back and jerked a thumb toward his car.

"Well, ah, I gotta get home and get to sleep. Good to see you again, Georgia. See you tomorrow, Jack!"

Jack waved. "See you, Poo—uh, Andrew."

Andrew said a silent prayer that Jack hadn't told Bitty about his nickname behind his back. Jack almost certainly had, of course, but he could hope.

—

A couple weeks later, Andrew was sitting next to Jack on their flight to Denver when Jack made an offhand remark about Bitty being at their game earlier that week.

"Oh, Bitty was here again? Just him, or your other friends, too?" He tried not to sound too eager.

Jack looked down at the phone in his hands, fiddling with it. "Um, just him. A lot of people had, um, midterms. He was already done with his."

"So what's his story, anyhow?"

Andrew wanted to fist bump himself for managing to sound so casual.

Jack frowned, confused. "Bittle? What do you mean, his story?"

Andrew shrugged and wracked his brain desperately for a way to ask if Bitty was single without asking whether Bitty was single.

"You guys are close, right? You talk about him more'n most of your other college buddies, and he visits more than they do. So tell me about him."

"Uh." Jack was now staring _aggressively_ down at the dark phone twisting in his hands. "I don't know. He's a good guy. Good player, natural on the ice, soft hands, good eye." Andrew was about to remind Jack that telling him about a _person_ was different from telling him about that person's _hockey ability_ , but when Jack kept going he was glad he hadn't. "You won't believe this, but when he first came to Samwell, he'd flat-out _faint_ on the ice if he got checked—not even checked, if someone barely bumped into him."

"Wait, what? How's he still on the team?"

"I coached him through it. He'd played on a coed no-checking team in high school, and he had this extreme mental block. He, ah. He was bullied a lot when he was younger, had a lot of—well, bad associations with big guys pushing him, y'know?"

"Christ. That's fuckin' amazing that he was able to get over that and play on the starting line for a Division I team." Andrew tried to focus on the fact that this guy was resilient and determined, not on the fact that he was probably bullied not just for being small, but also for being gay.

Now Jack was beaming down at his phone. "Yeah. I'm really proud of him. He worked his ass off to stay on the team. And when I went to watch their home opener, _he_ actually checked a guy! I mean, it was just a small hit, but still. He's come a really long way."

"You sound like a proud dad," Andrew couldn't help chirping him. "I half expect you to pull up some photos of him on your phone to show me."

Jack laughed more loudly at that than Andrew had expected, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Definitely not," he said, which seemed like a slightly odd reply to Andrew.

Who still hadn't figured out how to find out if Bitty was single.

—

A few weeks later, Jack had apparently gone to Samwell for a last minute visit (right after they'd touched down from their flight? In the middle of the night? He'd only muttered something about a family emergency when Andrew asked, and Andrew wished _he_ was close enough to his teammates, in Providence or elsewhere, to consider them family) and brought Bitty back with him the next day. Andrew found this out when he ran into Jack arriving for their game the next night and Bitty was with him.

Maybe… maybe if Andrew could get Bitty alone, he could just man up and ask him out. Or at least find an excuse to have a conversation with the guy that lasted more than thirty seconds.

He kept one eye on Jack in the locker room after, and made sure to leave soon after he did. Sure enough, Jack met up with Bitty about halfway to the parking lot. They stopped to say a few words to each other, just long enough for Andrew to catch up to them.

Bitty smiled and waved when he saw Andrew coming, and Andrew hoped like fuck he wasn't blushing.

"Andrew!" Okay, so either Jack _didn't_ tell him about the nickname, or he was such a southern gentleman that he remembered what Andrew preferred to be called. Either way, nice. "Hi! That was a sweet pass to Tater in the third, good job!"

If Bitty complimented him again, Andrew was probably going to die right on the spot. "Hey, Georgia. Yeah, thanks. Uh, you two comin' out with the guys tonight?"

There were plans to catch a couple rounds at their usual bar after, nothing much. But Jack almost never went drinking with them after games, a fact that Andrew, of course, was well aware of, so he was embarrassed but not shocked when Jack looked at him a little funny. He kept his eyes determinedly on Bitty.

Bitty gave him a gracious smile, but shook his head. "I don't think so. Thank you for the invitation, though, maybe next time I'm in town."

Damn. Andrew wracked his brain, trying to come up with some excuse, any excuse, to keep talking to Bitty.

"So, uh, everything okay up at school? Jack said somethin' about a family emergency before he took off in the middle of the night, everyone okay?"

To Andrew's confusion, Bitty actually looked incredibly pleased. "That's so sweet of you to ask, but don't worry, everything's fine. It's all fixed up."

Maybe Bitty was pleased that Andrew had asked? He tried not to let himself hope.

"Good. Cool." Andrew realized he was nodding way too enthusiastically to make up for his complete lack of anything to say and stopped abruptly. "So, uh. What are you studying up there, anyhow? I know Jack was a history major, right?"

Jack nodded. Bitty leaned against the wall, seeming to settle in for a conversation, and Andrew felt his heart rate pick up a little.

"I'm majoring in American Studies. Oh my lord, Jack is such a history nerd!" Bitty shook his head with an affectionate eyeroll. "Do not ever get this boy started on World War II!"

"Kind of like how you wouldn't shut up about food deserts for an entire week after we learned about them in that politics of food class?" Jack asked with a grin.

Bitty looked affronted. "Jack, that is a dire situation currently affecting tens of thousands of people in our country!"

"Yes, but we were all in the class with you, Bits." Jack elbowed him gently. "We'd all heard the same lecture on them and done the same readings."

Bitty huffed, and Andrew seized the opportunity. "What's a food desert?"

Jack shook his head, smirking, but Bitty perked up noticeably. "It's an area, usually in an inner city, where there aren't any grocery stores. The residents mostly have to buy their food at corner stores that hardly sell any fresh produce or meats, and overcharge like crazy if they do, and a lot of the residents don't have transportation to get to the larger grocery stores that are farther away regularly. Can you even imagine that? Not bein' able to buy any fresh fruit or stuff like chicken breasts, so even if you _want_ to eat healthy you just can't? "

"Yeah," Andrew nodded thoughtfully, "I can think of some neighborhoods in Boston that are like that. I mean, I didn't live anywhere like that, but I've seen it. You guys took a class on the politics of food? That's a thing you can study? Maybe I shoulda gone to college after all."

"Yeah, it was a pretty interesting class, actually," Jack replied.

"It was actually on the psychology, biology, and politics of food," Bitty clarified. "Honestly, that's why I'm majoring in American Studies, because that's where all the classes on food are."

Andrew laughed. "So, uh, you like food?" Somehow, he should be able to turn this into asking the guy to dinner. Right?

Jack turned to his friend. "Yes, Bittle. Do you like food?" He had a completely straight face, but his eyes were sparkling with humor. Honestly, seeing the way Jack interacted with someone he was close to like Bitty, it was getting a little hard for Andrew to keep his crush focused on the possibly-attainable one. Jack was fucking adorable chirping Bitty, it was a totally new side to him.

Bitty shoved Jack's shoulder. "You hush, Mr. Zimmermann. Yes, Andrew, I've been bakin' since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Let's just say if culinary schools offered hockey scholarships, I wouldn't have wound up at Samwell."

Something in Jack's face changed. Andrew wasn't sure what, but he looked worried all of a sudden. "Hey, Bits," he said, "I'm pretty tired. We better get home. See you later, uh, Andrew."

"Uh, yeah," Andrew said, trying to hide his disappointment. "See you guys later."

"Bye!" Bitty waved as Jack started off. "It was nice seeing you again!"

As Andrew headed toward where he knew people were gathering to go to the bar, he remembered a conversation he'd overheard between Tater and Jack just a couple of weeks earlier. Jack had been setting yet another pie in the nook, and Tater had been teasing him about his supposed girlfriend.

Jack had sighed. "I told you, Tater, you haven't met her because I don't have a girlfriend. She doesn't exist."

"Who is baking pies then? You are not baking pies, Zimmboni."

"It's just a friend of mine, Tater, okay? A—a guy from my college team." Jack's face had been strangely closed off, like he didn't want to talk about it.

Andrew realized that Bitty was probably the one doing all the baking—why was Jack so defensive about it? Weird.

—

It was between Christmas and New Year's when Andrew finally got up the nerve to make a move.

He'd overheard both Marty and Tater ask Jack about Bitty. It sounded like they might have hung out with them sometime when Bitty was in town and they didn't have a game? Andrew was a little jealous, but he knew he wasn't as close to Jack as either of those guys, so it wasn't a big surprise.

But Andrew had managed to convince himself that there was no way Jack would be such good friends with Bitty if he were homophobic. And he was a captain now—a position he'd gotten by earning the trust and respect of the team. Andrew didn't think Jack would out him to the rest of the team, and if they ever did find out about him, he didn't think Jack would be okay with anyone giving him shit about it.

Maybe it was a stupid thing to do his rookie year, try to date a guy. But it might be good to have Jack on his side, to let Jack in on his secret, either way. A weight off his shoulders.

So when he noticed Jack taking an extra-long shower after a rough practice, he hung back, too. Sure enough, soon they were the only ones in the locker room.

The thought of talking to Jack about asking a guy out in the locker room where they regularly saw each other naked (and where he still sometimes had to remind himself not to look at _Jack_ ) made his skin crawl, so he waited until they were headed out the door.

"How's Bitty doin'?" he asked causally as he and Jack exited the locker room together.

Jack stopped. "He's great," he said. His head tipped to the side just slightly, and he looked thoughtful, like he was sizing Andrew up. It felt weird, but Andrew ignored it and pressed on.

"Uh." He dropped his voice a little so it wouldn't carry down the halls. "You think maybe you could, uh, give me his number? Or—or, uh, you could give him mine? Maybe?"

Andrew never claimed to be smooth.

Jack just looked confused. "Uh, sure, I guess so? Why?"

Ah, shit. He was gonna have to, like. Actually say it. Out loud. To his captain.

He could lie—but if Bitty _did_ agree to go on a date with him, Jack would presumably find out pretty quickly. And if he turned Andrew down, Jack would probably also hear about that. It was his best friend, after all.

"I, uh—" he glanced around the hallway to make sure they were alone, and blew out a hard breath. He could do this. "I was kind hoping to ask him out? Like, uh… on a date?"

Jack's expression immediately dropped. He wasn't quite glaring at Andrew, but it was close.

Shit.

Maybe Jack was more homophobic than Andrew thought. Maybe Bitty wasn't gay. Maybe he was gay, but not out, even to his friends. He was a hockey player, after all, he might—

"Bittle's taken. He has a boyfriend." Jack's voice was even flatter than his usual media monotone.

Oh. Maybe this was more of a… protective-older-brother thing, then?

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I shoulda asked first if he was seeing anyone. It's, uh… so, is it pretty serious, then?" So sue him, he spent all this time working up to this, he can't just let it all go in five seconds.

But that made Jack _actually_ glare at him.

" _Yes._ They're very happy together."

"Good!" Andrew raised his hands in surrender. "I mean, that's great, I'm glad he's happy. I mean, he seems like a great guy, y'know? That's why I, uh, y'know. Anyhow. Yeah. So that's good. That he's happy. Sorry." He tried for a laugh, although it came out strained. "Heh, you'll let me know if they break up, right Cap?"

Wrong thing to say.

"No, because that's not going to happen," Jack said through clenched teeth.

"I was joking! It was a joke! I swear! I'm sorry, I swear I'm not tryin'a butt in if he's got a good thing going on! I would never!" His stomach dropped as he realized what Jack could do if Andrew pissed him off. "Shit, jesus, you're not gonna tell the guys about this, are you? I mean, I—they—fuck."

His head swam as the blood rushed out of his face. But his obvious terror seemed to make the anger drain right out of Jack. Jack let out a long breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, and when his hand was gone, so was the murderous expression.

"Of course not, man." He put a hand on Andrew's shoulder, and Andrew managed not to flinch. "Sorry. Thanks for trusting me with that. I've got your back, okay? You didn't know—"

"There you are!" Bitty's voice cut through from down the hall, and Andrew blushed without even having to turn to see him. Shit, it felt like Bitty would know what they were discussing just from looking at him. "Jack, where have you been? I've been waitin' in the car for fifteen minutes, you're not answering my texts—oh, hi Andrew! Sorry, I gotta get used to you havin' the A now, I guess people are gonna be keepin' you late to talk to you about captainy stuff more often, huh? Didn't mean to interrupt."

Ah, shit. Jack was probably gonna tell Bitty about this, and Andrew would never be able to look the guy in the eye again…

"No, Bitty, it's fine. C'mere."

When Bitty got close enough, Jack slid an arm around his waist and pulled him into his side. Andrew blinked. His brain struggled to process what he was seeing, because it looked like—

"Poots. Uh, Andrew," Jack said, looking sheepish. "This is my boyfriend, Eric Bittle. Bitty."

Andrew's eyelids couldn't stretch any wider.

Bitty beamed up at Jack. "Oh, honey, you didn't tell me you were gonna tell Andrew next!"

Next?

"Shit." Bitty looked at Andrew warily, and he realized how that sounded. "Sorry, I mean—wow. I'm really happy for you guys, that's awesome! That's great!" He happened to catch Jack's eye and suddenly wasn't sure he could ever look his captain in the eye again. "Aw, fuck." He put his face in his hands.

"Um…" he heard Bitty trying to come up with an appropriate reaction to that display.

"Sorry," Jack said. "I just embarrassed him. That was just… really bad timing. Andrew, it's fine. You didn't know, don't worry."

"I won't ask," Bitty replied with a laugh in his voice.

Andrew finally pulled his hands away from his face and held them up. "Sorry, sorry. I'm fine! I'm over it. Or—I will be. Someday. I hope."

"Well anyhow, you should come over sometime!" Bitty said, smiling. "Come have dinner, I'll make your favorite pie. Are you seein' anyone? They'd be welcome, too, of course."

Jack chuckled and Andrew tried to ignore the fact that he was now bright red. "No! No, I'm not, uh—not. I don't. I'm not." He glanced over at Jack and took a deep breath. "Yeah, no, I don't have a b—a boyfriend."

Jesus christ. He just said that. Out loud. To a guy he barely knows who is _dating one of the captains of his NHL team what the fuck is his life_.

"Oh!" Bitty didn't miss a beat, his smile only growing. "Sounds like we've got a lot to talk about, don't we? Jack and I need to get going, but gimme your number and we'll set something up."

Jack snorted loudly, and was clearly trying hard not to laugh as Bitty held out his phone. Andrew took it with a sigh.

"Jesus fuck, Zimmermann," he muttered as he entered his number, "just tell him already, okay? But wait until I'm outta earshot first, so I can pretend like you didn't."

When he returned the phone, Bitty took it with a raised brow and a quizzical look aimed first at him, then Jack.

"See you tomorrow, Jack. Good to see you, Bitty," he said, and booked it to the parking lot.

Just as he turned a corner and put them blessedly behind him, he heard Bitty ask, "Baby, was that poor boy hitting on you when I walked up?"

Jack just cracked up.

It wasn't until Andrew was in his car, almost all the way home, that it really sunk in.

Jack and Bitty were dating. They were boyfriends.

The two guys he'd been most attracted to in the past year. Were dating. Each other. Which meant…

They were fucking. Each other.

Shit. Maybe they were heading back to Jack's place right that minute _to fuck_.

Andrew would maintain until his dying day that he had absolutely no control over the wave of images that crashed through his head right then, or over the semi he had to finish his drive home with.

Later that night, lying in his bed, he decided that it was _probably_ a bad idea to proposition your team's captain for a three-way with his boyfriend.

Your rookie year, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com)


End file.
